#context I moved to toronto and it was the right call for my mental health but i had to leave my whole world behind

[sleepvines]

when things get green I gotta visit the park or take a bus somewhere I swear...

[lesmotsdoux]

Navigating Emotional Abuse as a Young Adult

I guess I should’ve taken the hint when he sent me a screenshot of a tweet his ex-girlfriend made saying that he “ruined her” and proceeded to tell me she was crazy. I wish I knew what gaslighting was, but I didn’t.

I guess I should’ve taken the hint when he told me he stayed away from me when I was seventeen because he had “destroyed everything with every girl he’d ever been with and wanted to protect me”. I wish I should’ve known not to trust, but I did.

I don’t know when the realization of abusive behaviour became clear to me. Abuse can manifest itself in many ways, whether physically or not, and is not always as obvious as it may seem. In fact, it can very subtle. This is the kind of abuse that often sneaks up on you as you become more entrenched in the relationship. This is what is known as psychological, mental or emotional abuse. 

In the context of gendered violence, whether physically or psychologically, these behaviours, normalized and enacted through a culture of patriarchal dominance, often end with the abused internalizing the situation, and feeling as if what is happening in the relationship is their fault. Much of this I can relate to, and in my personal experience, this behaviour was displaced onto me in a very particular, but common way.

Maybe it was every time he spoke negatively of other women. Every time he called an ex “crazy”, “slut”, “bitch”, or “ugly” or every time he compared me to them. Maybe it was every time he coerced me into sleeping with him when we hung out because it was what we “both wanted”. Maybe it was when I stopped eating for him, when I would go into work every day crying hysterically because of our previous texts or hangouts, constantly inducing panic attacks, but not being able to leave him. Maybe it was all of these things, maybe it was more.

I remember all the Snapchats and Instagrams posted with her in which it was explained that they were “only friends” so I couldn’t get mad. I remember moving back to Toronto for him and a couple of weeks later, being lied to and cheated on for the first time. But the explanation for cheating being that it was my fault as I was too clingy and that I wasn’t allowed to get angry because I was never labeled ‘exclusive’ girlfriend, and you know, because “that’s just the way guys are” and especially since they were just friends. But I was so jealous! Looking back, this single experience embodies the effects an abusive person can have on an individual. From projecting forms of internalized misogyny onto me, to controlling me to stay with them, despite the disrespect, lies and manipulation. This is but a minor reflection of the experiences I was subjected to in my six months seeing this person. I haven’t seen them since June, and yet, I cannot forget the abuse. I cannot forget how much hurt I was subjected to, I cannot seem to move on from this experience, from all the blame displaced onto me, the invalidation and internalization of the situation because I am a ‘crazy, obsessive’ girl and so, since we were never even official boyfriend/girlfriend, how can I stay mad?

I will not go too into the specifics, because it is much more grave than this and there are many more elements to this story that I reserve for myself, but as I reflect on my experience, I remember the constant quest for validation and respect, through a form of co-dependence which simply did not exist and was never reciprocated. It is telling in the behaviours enacted upon me that I became a silenced and marginal version of myself, manipulated into a relationship stemming from the quest for power and domination, a result of his toxic masculinity. The only time I was validated was in moments of sexual intimacy. The only time I felt deserving of recognition as a person was when I was submissive to this person. Sexual coercion? Yes. Manipulation? Yes. I just didn’t realize it, or maybe I just didn’t want to see it. It becomes more complicated in that this was the first person I had ever seen seriously, the first person I had been with that lasted more than a couple of months. And so, it becomes increasingly harder to deny that the person you love could ever hurt you, or is doing these things intentionally. In him, I saw an image of perfection, and I guess as the classic saying goes; “love is blind.” Yes. I guess when you’re in love you forgive, you forget, you internalize, you want to fix things, you want them to work, no matter how toxic. Because “love is love” and when you feel it that must mean something right?

No. Hurting the ones you love goes against the basic foundations of love. Although this sentiment seemed to be reciprocated, love is not abusive, love should not be a fight. Love is about respecting the individual, which was never the case.

I still remember the day he told me he loved me clearly, I remember it being the happiest day of my entire summer, only for him to post a Snapchat of him on a date the next day with the second person I was cheated on with, all this in the span of two months back in Toronto. Fast forward, I see on Facebook; ___ is in a relationship with ___. No explanation, no mention of her as I was in his bed the week before. After this public declaration of a relationship, he simply stopped answering my texts, no conversation, nothing. He just stopped talking to me. Even though we were still together when they were. He silenced me when I was with him, by neglecting my constant feelings of hurt and disrespecting me during, and he silenced me even more after the fact. Constantly competing for love and attention by pinning me against other women only for it to mean nothing. All the emotional labour, all the energy I put in was never good enough, because to him I was never pretty enough, too crazy, too clingy, just a ‘meaningless rebound’, and after all, as he puts it; we were just ‘sleeping together’ and so this behaviour has been justified.

I first started expressing my feelings of abuse and my experience with this individual through my poetry, here, on Tumblr. I referred to him as my ex. But it was constantly reinforced that I wasn’t allowed to call him my ex because he never called me that, and that me writing about him was ‘crazy’ and embarrassing and that I wasn’t allowed to be hurt because I was the slut, the one who misinterpreted everything because it never meant anything to him. For someone who was just his ‘sex object’ who was used to get over his previous ex, did it really then make sense for him and other people involved to go on a social media harassment party against me? Especially since he “never cared about me”? Some of the tweets directed directly at me, following a poem I posted included; “You sound pretty bitter over a female when you’re still trying to get at her man though”. Or “Not your ex boo lol. Feelings weren’t mutual. Go back to your barn.” Or even; “You look like a Kardashian. She looks like a horse.”

I have been open about my experience of emotional abuse, sexual coercion, assault and manipulation by this individual. And as I express this, I have further seen the effects of misogyny and internalized misogyny, displaced onto other women in his life. I have been able to overlook this and work through it, but unfortunately, not every person is able to unpack this type of conditioning. Evident in this narrative is not only a sense of internalized misogyny but of the evident abuse, lying, manipulation and constant pining of women against each other for him to feel dominant and in power. 

The reality is, as a result of this treatment, I on multiple occasions, urged him to stay away from me and leave me alone for my own sense of safety and mental health. I guess in me calling him out and holding him accountable, or at least trying to make him recognize the harm he had done and caused me- since I am the first woman he has been with to do so, and somewhat subvert this power dynamic- he lad to lie about me. To, in whatever way, try to the maintain the little power he still had over me. To lie about me, to tell people I wouldn't leave him alone, that I was SO desperate for his attention, that I was a slut, that I slept with him (or tried to) the day he asked his current partner to be his girlfriend, (funny because I later found out the day he asked her to be his girlfriend was the day he told me he was going for ice-cream with some “hip school friends” and invited me over to sleep with him that night, to which I subsequently said no)... all that was said about me was just so completely untrue and all just minor instances of trying to rally together a group of people inherent on silencing the one person who wouldn't stand for this type of behaviour.

It is just confusing as I am exiting a toxic relationship, trying to explain my feelings of hurt from someone who told me they cared for me, to be lied about over and over again and be so powerless in the explanation of this situation as his words hold so much more power over mine, a result of the systemic nature of the patriarchal structures in which we live.

Then it all makes sense, the constant pinning me against other women to fight for him in order for him to control, manipulate and maintain his power. The constant misogynist rhetoric that spewed for his mouth every conversation we ever had. The insecurity, the hatred of women…

He is 21 and has been in 7 longterm relationships since he was 15 that have all ended because he has cheated on all of them but it seems it has always been the woman’s fault because they’ve all gotten too comfortable around him and of course, because they have all been crazy. And me? I am the worst. I am the worst because I am the first one to say no. The first one to make him think of his actions, and the first one to walk away, to have power over him. But the constant antagonizing, stalking, i.e; (lurking on all my social media, me blocking him on social media because he was abusive, him finding out and blocking me back to try and maintain power, having him blocked and him still trying to find ways to traumatize me through using our mutual friend’s social media, finding out our mutual friend was visiting me and booking a trip the exact same weekend in the exact same place with his current girlfriend), the silencing, the lies, all of this simply for explaining how I feel.

This is not okay and emblematic of abusive behaviour. He is a pathological liar, on top of exemplifying a multitude of psychopathic and sociopathic behaviour, with no remorse for what he has done, not just to me, but to any woman he has been with.

This person is insecure, this person is cruel and continues to be for no reason other than his fragile masculinity. Despite it all, I have never done a single thing to him. I know to have been one of the kindest, most caring and giving people he has been with. But a woman calling him out is apparently “too much to handle” and thus justification for these actions. Accountability, responsibility and respect are foreign concepts to this individual.

At this point in my young adult life, I am tired of being blamed and victimized for something that isn't my fault, or for feeling crazy for simply, feeling. Again, abuse can manifest itself in many ways and may be incredibly difficult to recognize until you are physically or emotionally separate from the situation and even then, it may take months to forget or forgive, or months of therapy and unpacking to feel okay again. It is a constant process. It is work. My experience with emotional abuse is not a singular experience. I have first hand experienced the effects of emotional manipulation, sexual coercion, gaslighting and invalidation. The residual effects of this abuse have manifested themselves in severe PTSD, anxiety and depression. I’m getting better, and every day it hurts less and less and I forget him, slowly, but nevertheless these are things I am constantly trying to overcome, but it is not possible unless I express what I feel and am open with my experience.

Unfortunately, under the dominant hetero-patriarchal social climate, it becomes increasingly harder for women to speak out against their abusers. The serious effects of gaslighting constructs narratives which invalidate and silence the abused. Interlocking structures of domination continue to work against both men and women who internalize and deny the effects of their experiences as a result of constant invalidation and silencing. I refuse to feel guilty or be complicit in forgiving the behaviours of an abuser and not holding him accountable for them.

Just because I am 19 and have never been in a serious committed relationship does not mean I, or anyone else, is too young or old to experience this type of behaviour. It is inherent that we work through unpacking both sides of this spectrum, through the normalization of toxic masculinity, misogyny, internalized misogyny, silencing, victim blaming, etc… We must create better discourses inherent on working through these things and naming the signs of abuse before they are taken too far. Silencing enacted through misogyny of this kind has become normalized both in my personal and online life but is not normal. We must continue to work against it to create safer spaces and relationships built on respect.

[wionews]

Opinion: Racism impacts your health

By Roberta K. Timothy*

The recent news of Tina Fontaine’s trial and the acquittal of Gerald Stanley, a white farmer accused of killing a young Indigenous man, Colten Boushie, of the Red Pheasant First Nation are examples of the Canadian legal system’s commitment to the Indian Act and colonial dominance.

This ongoing colonial dominance has a transgenerational trauma impact on the health of Indigenous and colonized peoples.

Two recent examples that indicate the kind of violence that Black people experience: A school that allowed police to shackle a Black six-year old girl’s wrists and ankles; a children’s aid system that put a child refugee from Somalia into foster care yet never applied for his Canadian citizenship, so years later he received deportation orders to a country where he does not speak the language.

The impact of this colonialism and anti-Black racism on the health of Black and Indigenous peoples is elongated and insidious. We navigate systems, structures and communities that perpetuate abhorrence towards us in all aspects of our lives.

Experiencing and fighting such systems for justice for our children, ourselves and our community members has devastating effects on our health.

As a health and human rights researcher, therapist and professor who has explored the deep implications of racism, I would like to share some insights into the impacts of racism on our health.

My hope is that by doing so I create dialogue and encourage communities to continue to voice their experiences of violence and racism — in order to demand changes and ultimately create more supports.

Violence is a continuum

Health indicator statistics of Indigenous communities report increasing disparities between Indigenous and settler populations. Systemic racism affects Indigenous population’s health in various ways, this includes limited healthy food choices, inadequate living conditions and substandard health care. The infant mortality rate within Indigenous communities is almost 12 times that of settler communities.

The statistics, usually presented by state authorities, come without context or consideration to the broad range of causes — one of which is the continued exposure to state violence on a daily basis. 

We have anecdotal evidence: We see loved ones, friends, ourselves and respected community leaders struggle with the emotional and physiological impacts of racism on a daily basis. While anti-Black racism’s effect on the health of Black communities is documented, studies from the U.S. are more illustrative.

In one U.S. study, researchers studied 1,574 Baltimore residents of which 20 per cent reported that they had been racially discriminated against “a lot.” This same group had higher systolic blood pressure than those who perceived they had been discriminated against very little. Additionally, over a five-year period the group that felt they had been discriminated against “a lot” had higher declines in kidney function.

In a 1997 to 2003 study on racial discrimination and breast cancer in U.S. Black women, researchers found that perceived experiences of racism resulted in increased incidents of breast cancer, especially among young Black women. In 2011, a pivotal study on the impact of racism on health scholars linked lifetime experiences of discrimination to higher prevalence of hypertension in African Americans.

Biases in research

These are just a few examples of some studies being done on the impact of racism on health. However, most studies have been conducted in the U.S., the U.K., New Zealand and Australia. Canada does not yet collect race-based health or experiences of racism on health data through any formal mechanism. This poses a problem when scholars are asked to produce “scientific data” to prove that racism impacts health inequities and disparities. How do you provide “statistically significant evidence” on the impact of anti-Black racism when systemic issues limits your access to collecting this same data? My future research proposes to support the collection of increased health data on the impact of anti-Black racism in Canada and globally.

In Black communities no one is immune from racism — from our unborn to our school age children to our elderly. Consciously and unconsciously our health becomes obstructed.

The impact on health intensifies for those in Black communities who are women, working class, lesbian, gay, bisexual or trans (LGBT), dis(abled), refugees or newcomers. Here, the combination of oppressions creates additional stress on mental and physical health and well-being. I call this intersectional violence.

For example, the massacre of Muslims in a Québec mosque and anti-Islam policies continue to further impact the health of marginalized, often surveilled communities. Two victims of the Québec massacre were Black. This fact is hardly mentioned. This is an example of anti-Black racism within communities of colour.

Health impacts from anti-Black racism and anti-Indigeneity are often dismissed or kept silent by health scholars and health-care workers. The findings challenge the illegitimacy of systems of dominance and question the humaneness and accountability of colonial power. As such, research on the health impact of anti-Black racism is underfunded and under researched.

The “realness” of health impacts related to racism interrupts narratives of the “disadvantaged,” the “poor,” the “lazy” and the “needy.” Such stereotypes re-victimize and further aggregate health inequities. Yet understanding racism as a determinant of health is important to understanding economic and social barriers to success.

When we fail to address the real impact of racism on Black communities’ health, we not only lose our community members to often preventable disease, illness, institutionalization and ultimately death, we also lose our opportunity for redress and to energetically participate in transnational anti-oppression movements. 

Health impacts

Experiencing racism throughout our lifespan can overwhelm our health functionality. Repetitive acts of untreated trauma and violence lead to debilitating health issues.

The impact of anti-Black racism within our educational system is well documented by our lived experiences and “unexplained” drop-out rates. The effect of prolonged injustice from junior kindergarten through to post-secondary education, can lead to exacerbated health conditions.

The under-recruiting and under-hiring of African/Black and Indigenous peoples in medicine, psychology, education, health and in academia directly affects the impact of racism on these same communities.

Adversely, the over-hiring of African/Black community members as personal support workers, health aids and child care workers with little opportunity to move into positions of power in these fields directly establishes a division between the “helper” and “the helped,” resembling enslavement roles where Africans served whites while living in conditions that gravely impacted their own health.

The impact of the over-representation of our children in state care on the health of Black families due to separation and transgenerational trauma is never measured.

As our children and elders endure acts of violence during vulnerable times in their lives, without protection or support, their grief response becomes hidden or dissociated. This leads to challenges in seeking and receiving health care which increases despairing health results.

The myth that Black people do not seek mental health therapy comes from a falsified notion of “super resiliency” instead of the reality of under-funded and purposely delayed services that prevent health and wellness in our communities. This leads to many community members suffering and seeking services in silence and isolation.

The burden on Black and colonized folks’ bodies, minds, spirits, health and wellness is all-encompassing. 

Possibilities for change

Having a provincial anti-racism directorate and local Toronto anti-Black racism action plan indicates a way forward. Much activism over many years resulted in these strategies getting put into action.

The directorate’s effectiveness will be measured in its implementation, the diversity of its members and its power to eliminate health disparities and address the health impacts of racism and violence on the daily lives of Black, Indigenous and racialized peoples.

Research funding needs to be increased. Universities need to hire scholars from communities who are directly impacted by racism and whose work address these health inequities — to support communities impacted by these same injustices.

What if the Afrocentric Alternative school, the only one in Canada, was well resourced and supported as a health strategy to combat the early stigmatization and violence experienced by school-aged Black children?

What if, in the case of the killing of the late Colten Boushie, the jury was not all white?

What if we looked to Black Live Matters as a public health racial justice movement trying to prevent further health atrocities?

What if we collected health data on the impact of racism - using both informal and formal research methods - empowered, developed and implemented by Black and colonized communities to create health equity programs and strategies to address our health disparities? 

*Roberta K. Timothy is an Assistant Lecturer at Global Health, Ethics and Human Rights School of Health, York University. 

(Disclaimer: The opinions expressed above are the personal views of the author and do not reflect the views of ZMCL)

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